Friday, November 23, 2012

My mother, a park ranger, once held out a cone from an unknown tree and asked a state forester if he knew which tree it came from. “Some kinda conifer”, he answered, as if that was sufficient. He wasn’t wrong. The cone did come from a coniferous tree, but the answer was as helpful as saying “food” when someone asks “what’s for dinner?”

My mother was hoping for the specific tree. Did the forester know the answer or not? I hardly know anything and nature proves that to me daily with new mysteries. For example, why one morning was there a Ground Beetle hanging from a web-like snare from the bumper of my car? These are large, hefty beetles. Who caught it? And what type of beetle is it? I’ll give you a hint. You’re not going to find out because I don’t know.

I asked an insect nerd, I mean entomologist, which species it might be and considering there are over 425 different species of ground beetles, I was content to have it narrowed down to the Pasimachus, a genera with at least five indigenous species in Florida. From there he said it was impossible to tell with the photograph provided.

Most of the 40,000+ beetles in the world have hardened elytra that cover over and protect the wings. The Pasimachus ground beetles are flightless and the elytra are fused into a firm shell. They spend their time on the ground, in and under logs and leaf litter foraging for caterpillars, other larvae and other ground insects.

How this beetle came to be ensnared, flailing its limbs in the breeze like Ethan Hunt on a mission is beyond me. If it was trapped in a spider’s web, I wasn’t curious enough to look up under my car to find out which kind.

It would have been nice to offer you a genus and species name, but the beetle biologist took me as far as I could go. “Some kinda Pasimachus” would have to do. Sometimes identifying insects is a mission: impossible.

Yeah
that’s a bad idea. Toads in general have a powerful defense in the form of bufotoxin,
a white venomous substance that is secreted through the “warts” on their skin.
Licking the neurotoxin of a toad would be harmful and potentially fatal. In
fact it’s illegal to produce drugs from toad venom in the U.S.

I had a
dog when I was young that would routinely pick toads up in its mouth, quickly
drop them and then froth at the mouth to eliminate the toxin. He often looked
rabid. Did he learn? No and he repeated this behavior despite the negative
reinforcement of the painful experience. Both the dog and toads survived
nonetheless.

TheSouthern Toad (Anaxyrus terrestris) has bumpy skin with two large
kidney-shaped parotoid glands behind the eyes. It is best not to handle toads
and these bumps especially should be avoided. Southern Toads can reach lengths
of over 3.5 inches, are slow hoppers and are found near water in sandy soiled
areas. They’re also the ones hanging around your doorstep at night feeding on
bugs. Keep the dog inside. During the day they dig a burrow to protect their
moist skin from the long sunny days in the Southeastern United States.

In the
spring, females will find a slow-flowing body of water and lay duel strands of
thousands of gelatinous eggs that will hatch within 2-3 days. Once the tadpoles
develop feet, thousands of them will disperse together on rainy nights, but
their neurotoxin offers no defense for what awaits them on the roads.

You may
have better ideas of what’s acceptable to lick. Just remember toads are not one
of them.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Twenty
seven squirrel monkeys lived on an island at the Florida Monkey Sanctuary in
Venice, Florida. They had no interest in swimming to freedom. There was no land
close enough on the other side of the encircling moat that offered a chance to
leap to. They were content on their island oasis.

My
parents ran the sanctuary and we lived on the property when we were kids. One
night while my siblings and I slept, our dogs made an awful racket. My mother
asked my father to find out what was happening. He listened to the screams from
the porch and stepped no further from them. One by one, the dogs returned,
limping and bloodied. In the morning, my father investigated. All 27 monkeys
were dead. He traced cat tracks the size of his hands; one adult and two
kittens and determined that an endangeredFlorida Panther (Puma concolor coryii)swam across the moat with her young and hunted each and every one. Oddly,
she ate none. My father’s theory was that she was teaching her kittens to hunt
and quite effectively at that.

The
Florida Panther is considered one of the most endangered animals on the planet.
Technically they are a subspecies of the Mountain Lion, aka Puma, Cougar,
Painter, Swamp Screamer and Catamount (mascot of my Alma mater – the University
of Vermont – Go Cats Go!). The panthers are the last breeding population of the
cats east of the Mississippi. They once ranged from Alaska, south to Tierra del
Fuego in South America. In the United States they are restricted to the western
states with the exception of 120-160 panthers that roam from the Caloosahatchee
south to the Everglades.

Florida
Panthers are slightly smaller than the Mountain Lions out west. Adult males
weigh in at 165 lbs, compared to western cats that top off at 260 lbs. Panthers
measure over seven feet in length from nose to the tip of tail.

There
are many sightings of panthers with descriptions of spotted cats or black cats
that I chalk up to wishful thinking. Typically these areBobcats (Lynx rufus) or a
trick of the eye. Bobcats are a third of the size and are spotted with a six
inch tailed compare to a three foot tail. The notion of a black panther may
come from the black leopards from the Tarzan movies, the political group, their
appearance at dusk or melanistic bobcats that have been sighted in Florida. The
panther is golden brown with fur similar in color to their food, the White-tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus).

I was
born and raised here and have yet to see a panther. I’ll keep looking and keep
up my wishful thinking.

Friday, November 16, 2012

Catching
an oyster only seems difficult to me if you’re tossing one around with your kid
in your backyard. For a predator the difficulty is not chasing one down but
prying one apart once they’ve located it. The two sides of the bivalve’s shell
are bound together by an adductor that protects them from prying intruders.
Hopefully.

Considering
the difficulty of which it is to open an oyster for a human, theAmerican Oystercatcher (Haematopus palliates) is a
devastating effective predator of mollusks of all sorts. Juvenile
oystercatchers are taught certain techniques by their parents that make a quick
meal of mollusks. They are aided by a stout, powerful bill with triangular
shaped mandibles in cross section that are reinforced in such a way that they
will not bend easily when attacking prey.

One
method taught, known as “stabbing”, is to sneak up on the oyster while the
shell is open even the slightest, stab at the adductor and break the shell
open, exposing the meal inside. The second method, “hammering”, is to pry the
oyster from the oyster bed or other place of attachment and then use the bill
to shatter a hole in the shell. They can then break the adductor and eat their
meal.

In
addition to oysters they feed on a variety of shellfish, crabs and tube worms.
Crabs are flipped on their back and stabbed to death with the bill. To locate
tube worms, sensitive nerve endings in the bill allow them to sense prey as
they probe the tidal flats.

Occasionally
confused with the Black Skimmer (Rynchops niger), the oystercatcher’s
mandibles are equal in length compared to the skimmer’s disproportionate upper
and lower mandibles. The oystercatcher has a black head, white belly, and
sturdy pink legs.

As willets
and sandpipers scooted along the surf, the oystercatcher above methodically
probed the sand for lunch, ignoring the beachgoers. When you’re a stabber or a
hammerer who’s going to mess with you?

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

One of
the quickest ways to make an enemy of a native Floridian is to suggest that theCoconut Palm (Cocos nucifera) is not native to Florida. The fastest way is
to drive slowly in the fast lane. The iconic palm is found throughout the
tropics and grows along Florida’s coast from the middle of the state south
through the Keys. As a native Floridian I dare say that of the 85 species of
palms found in Florida, the Coconut might not be one of the 10 native species.
As more communities require Florida native plantings in their landscaping, the
debate over the status of the Coconut Palm has been more heated. Certainly many
of these palms have been planted on our shores, but the husked fruit can bob
along in the ocean for long periods of time, so it’s not inconceivable that
seeds have washed ashore and began growing here on their own.

The
Coconut Palm is easily the most recognizable palm with its long fronds and
bowling-ball sized fruit growing off of a single trunk. It’s valued for the
sweet “water” found inside as well as the edible white “meat” on the inside
that can be eaten raw or cooked in a variety. It is also used in soaps,
shampoos and to make coconut oil. Most importantly the palm provides an
aptitude test for young boys who attempt to procure the enticing seeds in a several
ways. I've watched a less-than-gifted boy stand at the base of a palm and throw
rocks up at a cluster of 10-15 coconuts, inadvertently providing a live demonstration
of gravity.

The tree
bears fruit after about five years and continues to grow 50-200 fruit for about
eighty years. Clearly, as some boys age they learn the art of coconut
retrieval. In Everglades City there is a group of men who drive around in an
unmarked white van, locate Coconut Palms, shimmy up the trunk, knock the fruit
down and collect them on the ground. Geniuses! These men are doing a public
service. One of the fastest ways to determine who the tourists are is to see
who parks under a Coconut Palm. Hopefully the White Van Men have already been
by.

Sunday, November 11, 2012

I could be a meteorologist in Florida. In May the
weather forecast is a chance of rain through November. The rainy season
coincides with the tropical storm season. A nice afternoon rain shower is par
for the course on any given day.

Lake Trafford is a 1600 acre inland lake in
northeast Collier County. It’s been called the headwaters of the western
Everglades. There are no springs or creeks to fill it up. The lake relies
solely on rain water. At its deepest point it’s about thirteen feet deep. As
the afternoon rains have fallen across south Florida, the clouds have parted as
they’ve passed the lake. When Tropical Storm Isaac skirted the gulf coast, rain
bands slipped past the lake on either side. The result is a 1600 acre lake that
has dried down to about 1200 acres with mudflats extending far out from shore.
The lake is more than four to five feet lower than normal.

The consequence is a high concentration of American Alligators, estimated at about
3000-4000. A variety of wading birds are also enjoying the late summer
shallows. The RoseateSpoonbills are most conspicuous. In a
landscape of leafy greens and muddy browns, the cotton candy pink plumage of
the spoonbills is a carnival of contrast.

The bald-headed, spatula-spoon-billed bird has a
distinct method of feeding, sweeping the bill back and forth over the shallow
mudflats, sucking in water, fish, crustaceans and insects and straining out
anything undesirable through its serrated-edged bill. The pink is diet related.
Certain algae contain carotenoid pigments which shrimp consume and then pass on
to spoonbills. These pigments are displayed in the pink flight feathers as well
as the creamcicle-orange tail feathers.

Spoonbill populations have suffered for over a
century in part from plumage hunters who collected the feathers for
ornamentation in the late 19th century and early 20th
century. Populations declined further due to the use of the chemical pesticide
DDT that caused thinning of the eggshells and low birthrates. The population
has increased in the last few years and despite the lack of rain on Lake
Trafford, the low water has created a refuge of sorts. If every cloud has a
silver lining, than it’s reflection on Lake Trafford is pink.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

On Sunday, August 26th,
Tropical Storm Isaac loomed 150 miles southwest of me in the Gulf of Mexico.
For five days, hurricane trackers had forecast the storm’s position and
strength and offered suggestions of where it might hit. Flooding, storm surges
and high winds are a big concern. When the call goes out to evacuate, it’s time
to go.

Birds and other
wildlife are sensitive to barometric pressure changes. When storms rage
through, strong fliers will depart in advance of the approaching storm. Tree
cavity dwellers like owls and woodpeckers will take shelter while others will
simply gran a branch, hang on and ride it out. The ibis can fly at speeds of up
to 28 miles per hour, so it is possible that they are the last to go, but Ibis
also amass in huge flocks and fly in “V” formation making them conspicuous to
even a non-birder.

The White Ibiswas named the mascot for the
Miami Hurricanes back in 1926 because as the school’s website states, “Folklore
maintains that the Ibis is the last sign of wildlife to take shelter before a
hurricane and the first to reappear after the storm.” Clearly this is fact
because several other websites state that “Folklore maintains that the Ibis is
the last sign of wildlife to take shelter before a hurricane and the first to
reappear after the storm.”

I was born and raised
in Florida. In my 41 years I have yet to experience a hurricane (lucky!). I’m
sure it made little sense to others that a native Floridian was asking when and
if we will need to evacuate. I wonder if the birds do as well. Do they look to
the Ibis or decide for themselves when it’s time to go? There are plenty of
people who wait until the last minute to evacuate and then it may be too late.

Thankfully there was no
need for me to evacuate and I had the opportunity to watch to see which birds
returned first. Keep your eyes open – with storms like these, occasionally a
rare species like the Greater Flamingo
will have been gusted north and made a rare appearance in Florida.

Monday, November 5, 2012

The gulf coast beaches of Florida are famed for the
amazing seashells that wash ashore. Scallops, conchs, whelks, pen shells,
turkey wings and a myriad of others become treasures to tourists and locals who
are no doubt entranced by the variety of colors and shapes these sea creatures
come in. What is easy to overlook, is what is underfoot when we walk in the
water along our coasts. The shells we gather were once occupied and lived in a
community of unseen denizens in the sand.

Bunche Beach in Fort Myers is a little known, sand
and mud bottomed beach between Fort Myers Beach and Sanibel. At low tide, the
crowds arrive. Black Skimmers, Laughing Gulls, Royal Terns, Least Terns,
American Avocets, Whimbrels, Ruddy Turnstones, Dunlin, Willets and other
coastal birds probe the flats in search of bivalves, crustaceans, sand worms
and other critters that are vulnerable when the tide falls. One of the favorite
snacks of gulls and terns is the radiant Sunray
Venus Clam(Macrocallista nimbus).

Sunrays are found in muddy environments where they
can burrow up to twenty five feet deep. Storms often send them tumbling up
towards the beach where they make easy pickings for birds, raccoons and other
coastal species. My son plucked one from the sand. It was empty but the radiant
sun burst of color was evidence that it had been freshly vacated. Sunrays,
while brilliant with pinks, salmons, grays and blacks will quickly fade in the
sun.

The ligament that holds each valve together was
tenaciously protecting a ghost of an occupant. The umbo, the terminal meeting
point of both halves was chipped and scratched as if the shell had taken a
turbulent ride in the sand. Inside, the shell was porcelain with a faint touch
of salmon around the centers.

It’s a beautiful shell and certainly made a good
home for the departed owner. Now in my son’s collection of sea treasures, it is
a reminder of the mysteries underfoot and the sunshine in the sea.

Friday, November 2, 2012

Traveling across the Everglades, a motorist will see
signs that caution “panther crossing”, and “wildlife on roadway”. Speed limits
are reduced at night to protect nocturnal species. Hundreds of miles of fences
stretch from one side of the state to the other. Wildlife is often observed
behind the fence and one might wonder if you’re traveling through a zoo or you
are part of the zoo.

The Big Cypress National Preserve, established in
1974, is a vast 750,000 acre wilderness in the heart of the Everglades. Three
main roads cut through the preserve. I-75, also known as Alligator Alley runs
east/west from Fort Lauderdale to Naples. SR-29, aka Panther Pass runs
north/south along the western border of the preserve and US-41, aka Tamiami
Trail cuts just above the southern boundary of the Preserve and runs from Miami
to Naples.

Wildlife crossings in the Everglades\

In the 90’s, the Florida Panther (Puma concolor
coryi) population dropped precipitously low to an estimated 35 cats.
Various methods were used to help the population, including introducing eight
Texas Cougars, installing reduced speed limit signs in popular panther habitat
and building wildlife underpasses and overpasses. The majority of the passes
were built along I-75 with an additional 6 passes built along SR-29. They were
built in locations where an unsustainable number of road fatalities to panthers
had occurred as well as American
Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis),
American Black Bear (Ursus americanus), White-tailed
Deer (Odocoileus virginianus)and
many other species.

Fencing helps redirect the wildlife to the bridges
where they can safely cross, prevents vehicular accidents and maintains
contiguous habitat for animals that are known to wander far and wide throughout
the wet and dry seasons.

In January of 2012, Florida DOT installed
solar-powered, Remote Animal Detection Systems in areas where fences are not
practical. LED-slit signs flash when the RADS are triggered, warning motorists
of wildlife on or near the roadway.

All animals have some warning system that protects them from harm. Rattlesnakes rattle. Bees Buzz. Dogs growl. Monkeys throw poop. If you...

.

Hey! Look at me!

I was born and raised just west of the Everglades. Growing up at the Florida Monkey Sanctuary, a 10-acre, private non-profit organization owned and operated by my parents.
My experience at the sanctuary involved not only working with hundreds of primates of various species, but also provided the opportunity to become immersed in the natural history of the area, where the sanctuary alone was home to Sandhill Cranes, Wood Storks, Indigo Snakes, River Otters and abundance of other native wildlife. Leaving the subtropics for colder climates, I attended the University of Vermont and graduated with a BS in Wildlife and Fisheries Biology. I returned to southwestern Florida and guided for the Everglades Day Safari from 1998-2000 before once again trading sandals for snowshoes in Vermont where I worked for six years as a Park Ranger at Lowell Lake State Park in Londonderry, VT. and for several years as the Director of the Vermont Institute of Natural Science in Manchester, VT.
Now I'm back in Florida and I’ve returned with a vengeance, which I keep caged like an angry monkey with a bucket full of poop and deadly accuracy.